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Mayhem Galore
Cockpit ::In the center of the cockpit sits a large chair. Forward is a navigation console, with a full view window that stretches halfway around the shuttle. Lighted displays offer information about what's going on inside and outside the shuttle. Additional seats are available for passengers. Dawson sits, leaning back in a chair, arms folded across his chest. Snowmist clambers in through the hatch, immediately noticing the inhabitants and nodding to each in greeting. Mulligan is sitting in the navigator's chair. He turns as the hatch opens. "Ah...Good. We are prepared." Snowmist nods to Mulligan, casting a sharp glance toward Dawson. "So what now?" Mulligan says, "Well, first...You get dressed." Mulligan drops Elite Guard Uniform - 6232. Mulligan gestures to a stack of carefully folded clothes located on one of the passenger's seats. Snowmist picks up the uniform and drapes it over an arm. "Someplace I can change?" Mulligan nods, gesturing aft. "Engineering." Snowmist waves as she heads aft. "Be right back..." She leaves to change, then returns… Mulligan nods a bit. "It is your decision whether you wish to attempt to smuggle it in yourself or not-- you may be searched." Snowmist sets her original clothes down on a chair, pulling at the uniform's collar uncomfortably. Dawson furrows his brow. "Well, how /else/ would I get it in?" Mulligan says, "Snowmist may bring it in for you." Snowmist glances between them, tilting her head questioningly. Dawson looks over towards the Demarian, then back to Mulligan. "And what if I don't have a chance to get it from her?" Mulligan says, "I simply do not wish for you to compromise yourself." Snowmist says, "Compromise himself with what?" Mulligan says, "His weapon." Dawson frowns, and reaches inside his cloak, pulling out a shiny silver slugthrower. He holds it out to Snowmist. "Here." Dawson drops Slugthrower Semiautomatic Pistol - 3240. Snowmist takes it, looking it over. "What's Fagin's weapons policy concerning the guards?" Mulligan produces a large, double-barreled weapon. "Take this as well." He looks to Snowmist. "You are Elite. You may bear whatever arms you wish. Snowmist nods, but looks at the pistol skeptically. "Do I *need* this much on me?" Mulligan shrugs. "It is your decision. In my experience, one can never be too prepared...And 'bristling with weapons' describes the Elite nicely." Dawson chuckles. "You gotta give one of 'em back to me, mind you." Snowmist hmphs and grins in Dawson's direction. "Don't worry, I won't be forgetting." Mulligan says, "Are we prepared, then?" Snowmist says, "What am I supposed to do exactly? March him up and ask for a reward? Stall for time?" Mulligan says, "You're Elite. Just deliver him and await your reward. Be as nasty as they are...Try not to call additional attention to yourself." Snowmist says, "Do I need to keep near him? What if they separate us?" Mulligan says, "They won't have any reason to separate you-- you are an Elite Guard...You are making sure your prisoner is well in hand." Snowmist nods as she checks her access to the weapons, feeling decidedly weighed down. "All right." Mulligan looks to Messer. "Look scared-- you /are/ in danger. Use that emotion. You will be well served to do so. Mulligan, having said that, begins moving the shuttle from the bay. Dawson rolls his eyes. "What, you think I'm /not/?" The bay doors begin to slide open as the Pulsar Skate prepares for departure ... You feel a sudden lift as the Pulsar Skate glides forth from the docking bay. Mulligan smiles, but doesn't reply. Snowmist grins as she plops into a seat, wincing and shifting one of the guns. "Feel like a damned rack..." Mulligan's brows arc...Hanging on the viewscreen is a large vessel..."The Galore," he says, "I was not expecting it so close..." He shakes his head. "Convenient." With that, he guides the shuttle towards the much larger vessel. You feel a sudden jerk as the ship speeds up. You feel the ship begin to slow. You feel a slight force as the ship glides to a halt ... Mulligan touches a button, speaking into the air. Mulligan says, "ICV Galore-- this is the Pulsar Skate. We bring a gift for Lord Fagin. Guildmaster Messer is no longer at large. Request boarding permission." Mulligan leans back in his chair, folding his hands before him. Snowmist seems almost to be dozing, slouched in the chair, eyes closed. A voice crackles through the speakers on the Navigation Console. "Understood, Skate. Shields lowering, prepare for landing." The enormous bay doors slowly begin to slide open in front of the ship. The Pulsar Skate pushes forward as it glides in and docks. Mulligan guides the ship into the docking bay. "Good luck," he says, moving towards Engineering. "They may board...They must not see me. Dawson nods slightly, standing. He straightens his garb a little, and looks to Snowmist. "Shall we?" Snowmist nods and rises, taking out her pulse pistol and training it on Messer. Mulligan disappears aft. Mulligan heads into Cargo/Engineering . Snowmist disembarks from the ship. ::Hangar Bay ::The sounds of machinery and the smell of lubricants, sweat and ionized fuel assail your senses in this massive chamber, a self-contained traveling spaceport with a broad landing pad, repair crews on standby, and traffic control facilities. Sparks fly from arc welders used to make repairs on tramp freighters, couriers and other ships that have docked aboard the Galore for business with the ship's proprietor. Dawson exits from the Pulsar Skate. Dawson steps out of the Skate, a pulse pistol trained on him. They find the Galore's captain, Vassar, waiting for them. Snowmist pushes Dawson forward when he doesn't move fast enough, the pistol aimed unwaveringly at his midsection. "Move it..." Dawson stumbles forward a bit, cursing angrily under his breath. Vassar says, "Grim is waiting for you in the tavern. Follow me" A short while later, the three enter the Freewheeling Tavern... ::A backlit mural of the Tomin Nebula gleams violet and red along one wall of this shadowy tavern. The bar's patrons sit around scattered tables and at a long counter. The crowd here seems a mix of well-to-do and absolute lowlife, from all corners of the Consortium, Fringe and the tattered remnants of the Parallax. Grim reclines in a chair with his back to the wall at a corner table in the rear of the tavern, arms crossed over his chest as he smiles ferally at the newcomers. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." Snowmist gives more a sneer than a smile, and shoves Dawson forward, the pistol never moving from him. "Heard y'wanted someone." Vassar moves to stand near Grim. Dawson stumbles a few feet closer to Grim, and stares at the man. Grim nods, smiling. "Good work, soldier. Show him to the table and join us for a drink." Snowmist catches Dawson's attention and nods to the table, motioning with her other hand while keeping the pistol trained. Dawson wordlessly steps over to the table and pulls out a chair, sitting down slowly. Grim lets his eyes go from Dawson back to Snowmist. "So, how did you manage it?" Snowmist shrugs as she moves to the opposite side of the table from Dawson, flicking the occasional wary glance toward him as she nods to Grim. "'s easy. Y'just gotta know the prey's habits." Grim nods slowly, pondering the Elite Guard. "Where did you catch him?" Snowmist says, "Castor." Grim tilts his head. "Indeed? Did you have something to do with the demise of Jerico Davies?" Snowmist hmphs, letting a sneer crook her mouth. "'s dead? Good riddance. Wish I could claim credit for it, but hearin' the news 's 'nough." Grim leans back, crossing his arms. "Curious...Davies was on Castor when another human gunned him down. Don't remember any reports of a Demarian showing up." Snowmist shrugs. "'s cuz I *didn't* 'show up'." She looks levelly at Grim, eyes unwavering. "Castor's a big place. Would'a missed 'em easy." An explosion rocks the lower decks of the Galore. Grim snaps his eyes up to Vassar and gets to his feet, drawing his blaster. "What the hell!" Dawson quickly springs to his feet, grabbing the table for support. He looks below him nervously, then around. Grim swivels the blaster around to Dawson. "Well, time to wrap up one loose end." Snowmist is immediately on her feet in a crouch, eyes darting everywhere. Snowmist protests, "Hey, the money!" Vassar draws his own blaster, and scrambles to a com panel. "Bridge, what in the name of hell is goin' on!?" Alarm klaxons wail. Dawson's eyes widen. "Don't you, uh, have bigger issues?" A voice over the comm panel shouts: "Explosion in engineering deck!" Snowmist growls to Grim, "I want my money before anybody even *thinks* about off'ing him!" Vassar keys it again, "Damn it to hell! Get damage control down there, now! All security to battlestations. I want a deck by deck search, NOW" "Aye Captain!" Grim keeps his gun trained on Dawson. "Captain Vassar, the Elite Guard here has outlived her usefulness." Vassar turns and trains his blaster on her. "Aye, that much is obvious...shall we take care of that?" Grim nods. "By all means." Snowmist curses, her pistol automatically training and firing on Vassar as she ducks underneath the table. Vassar tries to dodge and return fire as Snowmist reacts.. Vassar fails to dodge the shot, which strikes him full in the chest and sends him sprawling. Dawson swears as Snowmist fires, grabing the back of his chair and swinging it around at Grim. Vassar says, "Ach!!!" Grim growls and pulls the trigger, firing at Dawson. The chair swings around and hammers Grim's hand, hurtling the blaster aside as the shot goes wild - and strikes Snowmist in the left arm instead. Grim drops Blaster. Quickly, the majordomo dives toward the gun. Dawson dives after the weapon as well, scrambling across the floor. Snowmist gasps and rolls toward the dubious protection of the furniture. Grim recovers the weapon. Snatching up the gun, Grim rolls and brings the barrel up toward Dawson. Snowmist scrambles up and shoots toward Grim, wincing at the pain in her arm. Dawson tries to roll out of the way of the barrel, kicking up at Grim in the process. Dawson's kick strikes the majordomo in the belly. Distracted, he doesn't get a shot off, but he rolls away, under another table - gun still in hand. Vassar lays flat on the floor, "The sea...if only...it was the sea...."....and his last breath escapes him. The shot from Snowmist's weapon strikes Grim in the back, squarely. Dawson scrambles to his feet and dives towards the safest place he can think of. On top of the table Grim is hiding under. The majordomo arches backward as the shot hits him and he loses his grip on the blaster and sinks into unconsciousness. Alarm klaxons wail. Another explosion sounds in the depths of the ship. The lights flicker and the chandeliers tinkle and sway. Dawson swears, looking over at Mist. "Gotta go! NOW!" He quickly springs down off the table, bolting for the door. Snowmist looks at the majordomo, wavering, then curses as she scrambles after Dawson. Snowmist and Dawson rush through the rumbling, dying ship to reach the Pulsar Skate, and clamber aboard to rejoin Mulligan… Dawson dives in, shouting, "GO!" Mulligan, hands instantly beginning to fly over the navigation console, says, "I thought I'd have to leave you." Snowmist runs in after Dawson, clutching her bleeding arm. The bay doors begin to slide open as the Pulsar Skate prepares for departure ... You feel a sudden lift as the Pulsar Skate glides forth from the docking bay. You feel a sudden jerk as the ship speeds up. Through the viewscreen, the Galore can be seen, wracked by explosions tearing through her. The ship, buffeted by explosions, lurches out of the docking bay. Dawson rolls across the floor, bumping into a bulkhead. He gazes up at the viewscreen. Snowmist collapses next to a chair, cursing roundly under her breath, trying to keep from being tossed around. With a brilliant flash, the Galore rocks to starboard and then explodes in spectacular fashion. The ensuing shock wave rattles the Pulsar Skate, heaving her toward Nephthys on a collision course. The little ship tears into space, accelerating rapidly to full speed. Jaxx blinks, "Oh. My." He says. Dawson, seeing the inverted view on the screen, and feeling what happens, does the most productive thing he can. He screams. Mulligan fights with the controls, expression set stonily. The potato-shaped station grows larger and larger in the viewport. Snowmist grits her teeth, eyes narrowed at the viewport, all of her muscles tensed and locked tight. Mulligan's hands fly over the console, not truly frantic, but driven by the urgency of the situation as he tries to twist the little shuttle away from doom. With seconds to spare, Mulligan is able to veer just a few feet above the surface of the station, static electricity arcing between the surface of the station and the shuttle Dawson clamps his hands onto whatever stationary object he can, to hold his place, as he whimpers. Snowmist slumps back against the seat as they clear the station with a sigh of relief. Mulligan sighs explosively, having so narrowly averted disaster. He glances at his scanners, "Were there survivors, were there survivors," he says, mostly to himself. Dawson breathes heavily, knuckles turning white as he continues to stare out the screen. Snowmist wearily pulls herself to her feet. Taking out and dropping the two pistols that weren't hers on a seat, she eases into the one next to them and begins examining her arm, wincing occasionally. Dawson eventually lets up his grip and sits up, still panting. "W-well?" he stammers, looking towards Mulligan. Mulligan leans back in his chair, "No signatures...Possibly no survivors." As he brings the ship to a new course, he says, "We will go to Ungstir." The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace. Snowmist asks without looking up, "Why there? And you got a medkit I can borrow a mome?" Dawson nods slightly, and looks over at Mist, staring at the wound. Mulligan says, "Check the compartments...This is not my ship." The ship reverberates slightly as it speeds through Otherspace. The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace. Snowmist rises with a grimace, riffling through the compartments one handed, her left arm hanging loosely. "So why Ungstir?" Mulligan says, "I have contacts there." The ship, after a series of quick jumps through the Otherspace, dives towards an icy rock of a world-- Ungstir Prime… The ship shudders as the drop rockets engage and the ship begins its descent. The landing struts thump against the surface. Dawson peers over at the viewscreen. "Well... We're here? Safe?" Mulligan nods. "Safe. For now...It will take Fagin some time to regroup, if indeed he does so at all." He looks to Snowmist. "Let us find you aid." Snowmist sighs as she rocks back on her heels, nodding with a wince. "I would be most grateful." Dawson nods slightly, finally regaining his composure, a little. "I'll, uh, be... here." Mulligan says, to Dawson. "The Pulsar Skate is yours...I have no need of her." Dawson nods slightly. "Thanks. I think." Dawson leans back, shutting his eyes. "You two'll still be here, right?" Mulligan shakes his head, answering. "No." Dawson opens his eyes, brows arching. "I... see. Then, um... this chip?" Snowmist moves toward where her original clothes are still folded, muttering as she gathers them up with her right hand, "Least these didn't get messed up..." Dawson taps the back of his neck. Mulligan says, "I will make sure it is handled. Do not concern yourself. First, though...Snowmist must be seen to." Dawson nods. "Ah, okay. Thanks... And, take care, guys." Mulligan says, "Thank you, Mr. Messer-- your help was invaluable." Dawson chuckles sarcastically. "Ya-huh." Mulligan stands, moving to Mist. "I know this may seem the least important thing, but you must remove that uniform before we hospitalize you." Dawson slowly closes his eyes again, sighing quietly. Snowmist shakes her head. "Nah, I understand. Just a mome..." She grins as she moves into engineering, "Sorry for messin' it up." Snowmist presently reappears in her old gear, sans the shirt with only the vest laced over her chest, keeping her bloody arm well away from the clothes. "Here," she says, tossing Mulligan the uniform. Mulligan nods, dropping it onto a seat. "Come." He says. Mulligan moves towards the hatch. Snowmist follows, her shirt draped over her right shoulder, hand clamped around her wound. 6b